


They Weren't Margo

by waitingfor_margo



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 10:59:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingfor_margo/pseuds/waitingfor_margo





	They Weren't Margo

Our legs touched as we sat on my bed, closer than necessary. Sophie looked up at me from under her eyelashes, aiming for coyness but failing. Her smile was sweet, her lips slender but soft looking. She had freckles. Her eyes were blue.  
As I read the next lines to her, I already wished she would leave. “And when I look into her eyes, this sparkling blue, I realise that I’m in love with her adventure seeker skills, her smile, her hands, and how she fills my desperate heart.” I put the shop-worn paper aside and awkwardly turned to look at her. Sophie wore a slight blush. “You have to go now”, I said. She looked confused and more than a mite disappointed. “I’m sorry but I still have to do homework. Don’t want to disappoint my mum”, I mumbled, looking down. She probably liked the idea of me wanting to make my mum proud, at least she silently stood up. “Do you show me the door?” Her voice wasn’t quite right. Too sweet. Too clear. We got downstairs and stood in front of the door for a few seconds, unsure of how to say goodbye. Well, I knew how. But she probably expected a kiss. I leaned in to hug her instead and she opened the door after a silent “bye, see you”. I forced myself to smile. Then she was gone.

***

Rebecca’s brown locks swayed slightly and her dark eyes crinkled as she laughed. I always thought those were the moments your heart swells until you think it must burst any moment from all the happiness stored inside. But I felt nothing. Nothing except annoyance. Her laughter annoyed me. She stroked my hair and whispered in my ear. “Do I really smell of raindrops and books?” “Hhmm”, was everything I could say at that moment. She yawned loudly. “Are you tired?”, I asked probably a bit too fast. She frowned, then said with a smile in her voice: “No, not in the slightest. You could never tire me”. “Well, but I am. Tired I mean. I would like to sleep.” I didn’t need to look up at her to know her face showed pure disappointment. I did it anyway. Like that Rebecca didn’t look half as good as normal. She stood up wordlessly and left my room. A few seconds later I heard her bang the front door. I didn’t feel sorry at all. Just empty.

***

We lay on the grass in my garden, looking up at the sky and the ever moving clouds. Lillian’s hair surrounded her head like a halo. She used her right hand to shield her eyes from the burning sun, bumping my shoulder in the process. She looked at me with her brown eyes and mumbled an apology. “It’s okay”, I answered although somehow it wasn’t. Lillian turned to face me. “Are you going to read that poem you talked about to me now?” “Sure, if you want.” She wanted, I didn’t. But nonetheless I took the crumpled paper from under my head and began reading.

“Margo.” I paused after the title, shyly looking up at Lillian, and continued.

“When Margo holds me in her arms and I can feel how much she warms my lonely heart,  
I then suppress a tear of joy at how she treats me like a toy she dearly loves.

She softly fingers with my hair and all I can smell in the air is her perfume  
of raindrops, books and easiness, of beauty, love and cleverness, and spring’s first bloom.

Her voice is like a melody, a tender bird that sings to me about her mind. Within a thousand little thoughts, ideas she forms into words, her tone so kind.

And when I look into her eyes, this deep, soft brown, I realise that I’m in love  
with her adventure seeker skills, her smile, her hands, and how she fills my desperate heart.”

When I had finished reading and looked up again, Lillian’s eyes had widened in awe and she kept silent for a bit. I was grateful for that. She then opened her mouth and asked softly, like every single one of them did: “Am I Margo?” and I answered shortly, like I always did: “Yes”. It was lie. I always lie.


End file.
